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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598423">Faded Hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alarynia/pseuds/Alarynia'>Alarynia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Hearts and Magic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types, Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Always a girl, Angst, Crossover, F/M, Genderbending, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:01:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alarynia/pseuds/Alarynia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merilyn makes a deal with death for the lives of those she loves. When that deal opens doors she didn't know could open, what happens for her, for Lancelot, and for the lives of Thedas?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Hearts and Magic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Faded Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Quick message:</p><p>I must apologize for those of you that are following me from The Destiny of Albion. I was writing that fic during a very questionable and tumultuous time of my life, and looking back at it, I didn’t feel 100% with where I was going with it. This may skip ahead a bit, and I apologize, but this will have back story sprinkled throughout, but I just didn’t feel like I could keep going on the same string on writing that I was before. Now, I’ve had plot bunnies galore going through my head, and Merilyn has been a predominant factor in that plot.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Ofertêon bâm Heortscræf– To End a Heart</p><p>                Lightning flashed in the stormy sky above, gleaming against the blood-tinted, muddied armor below; spots of blades flashing against the night’s darkness as sword struck against sword, as shield bashed against shield. It tingled within her blood, thrumming with each thunderous crash, as her moist fingers gripped the rough grip of her enchanted polearm, blood from the scrapes from her exposed skin amongst her torn gauntlet mingling with the sweat from her exertions, a mix of the two trickling down to meet the blade at its base. The fight continued, clashes, slashes and bashes, the swipe of a sword from a nearby soldier, carrying the druidic tabard of her bannermen, crunched into yet another of Morgana’s Saxon fighters. Magic sparked through the air as the druids fought along side the countrymen of Camelot, electricity sparking the smell of ozone through the air, fire heating the skin in short bursts, ice freezing the ground beneath the brutish forces. Merilyn fought beside Lancelot and Oriana, having lost Arthur in the fray, Lancelot alternating his thrusts and parries with his sword and shield, Oriana fighting with her daggers and fire magic, each protecting the fighter next to them to the best of their ability. Her scar pulsed in her palm with each swing of the polearm, it the only tangible proof of their bond, still secret to all but their closest allies, fluttering away with a fast <em>-blub, blub- </em>to let her know he still yet lived.</p><p>                Too many innocents had already died, villages burned within Camelot, druidic camps turned to sacrificial alters by the forces that Morgana commanded, all in her quest to gain power over what Arthur and Merilyn held dear to their hearts – Arthur’s heart with the people of Camelot and Merilyn’s bond with her druidic kingdom, Loca. While Arthur and Merilyn together sought to bring peace to the kingdoms, to bring them together in a harmony of life and magic, Morgana still harbored dark magics, claiming to be doing the will of The Disir, claiming that the domination of all was the will of the goddess Hecate, and that by all rights, Camelot was hers. It had been made clear that nothing would stop her plight, not even the bodies of her would be subjects.</p><p>                Fire ripped through the sky and the embattled storm continued, marking another pass through the battlefield by Aithusa. Flames flickered across charred corpses of ally and foe alike, as Merilyn and Lancelot ducked away, Oriana struggling to escape the fiery heat as it licked across her arm. A sharp cackle pierced the sky, marking Morgana’s location on the sodden field, and great branches of electricity stormed through the ranks of Camelot and Druid alike. A flash of dark fabric darted by the trio of emboldened fighters, bodies withering with rot as it past, a sign of Mordred crossing through the battlefield, and a quick flash of protective magic was all that kept them from further injury. The tide of the battle was turning, and as Merilyn had feared with that cursed prophecy, it was being swept away from the favor of those on the side of light.</p><p>                A twirl of her dual-bladed polearm met with a gurgling crunch in the now mangled helmet of a nearby attacker, the metal of her weapon sparking from the anxiety of her magics. <em>Goddess be damned</em>, she thought frantically, as another druid dropped to her knees in the dark mud, blood dripping from a sword hewn wound amongst her rain-soaked locks, before falling limply to the ground, <em>hiding amongst the fight will do nothing to save us. We must end this, before more lives are lost. </em>Rain, sweat, and blood mixed to drip over her helm, the murky droplets falling as she glanced over at her would be guards with worried blue eyes. She flicked her hand in a signal for them to fall back, to prevent them being in the onslaught to come. Another flash of lightning, Morgana’s apparent favored device flashed through the ranks, dropping several more bodies in its wake.</p><p>                “Merilyn, NO!” Lancelot, her brother in all but blood, shouted in desperation, pausing in his fight to try to reach her, just narrowly parrying a broadsword’s strike to his face. A wave of power spread behind her as she turned, pushing Lancelet, a struggling Oriana, and their attackers back as the started to step towards the side of battlefield that she had last heard the insane shrieks of laughter that could only have come from Morgana.</p><p>                Her armored boots pushed forwards through the mud, the sodden navy cape whipping behind her from the stormy wind, power beginning to charge through the intricately carved polearm, runes lighting as her magics fueled it. Ever since the completion of her Grêtan, the challenges of any true druidic sorceress, the magic no longer required spoken spells to spill forth, instead flowing through her instinctually. Some druids said it was simply the true power of the priestesses, but others hypothesized that it was due to her harmonization with the elements. The Grêtan having taken years for her to accomplish, but each element now within her command. The only indication of trouble ahead was the gold that lit her typically blue eyes, the glow of it unnerving in the brightness shining through her helm.</p><p>                Merilyn’s voice amplified eerily across the battlefield, a commanding lilt tinging her declaration. “Now is the time of surrender. Any who do not wish to further this treachery must drop their weapons and cease their attack.” The jarring clatter of weapons and magic paused, but merely for but a few seconds, a wicked laugh breaking through the air, heard from the distance as more lightening arced over the paused fighters, striking many druids and soldiers alike, turning many a warrior into but a crisp corpse. A shriek and sharp thud into the mud behind her, a quick glance back brought Merilyn’s attention to Oriana’s lifeless corpse, her druidic commander’s brown eyes now lifeless from Morgana’s unforgivable attack, smoke rising throughout the battlefield from Morgana’s assault.  </p><p>                Few of Morgana’s soldiers took the opportunity given to turn away, and after such an assault, Merilyn was loathed to allow more to be done against those under hers’ or Arthur’s command. The pulsing in her hand grew faster, indicating that Arthur was under duress, his heart beating frantically under the stress of his fight, and so Lynn knew that if ever there was a time to act, it was now.</p><p>                Eyes still shining a bright glow of gold, Merilyn allowed her fury, guilt, fear, and all other emotions to coalesce as her power expanded with a bound of force from her torso, her polearm sparking at her side from the increase in power. Bolts of electricity bounded from her from hostile to hostile, flames flew up into the thrashing wind that wound around her, wind increased in speed as it whipped about dragging blades into the air. Time seemed to freeze, droplets glimmering in place as Merilyn strode forward, man after man, woman after woman, parting before her, as energy grew around her, her grief from so much death and destruction fueling its strength.</p><p>                “Merilyn!!!” A shout was heard over the tumultuous combat, but at that point her power had reached its peak, exploding outward. Those who had shown hostilities toward those of Camelot and Loca and had not taken her offer of submission were surrounded suddenly by the devastating depth of her magics, mud was flung and stilled in the air, rain fell but paused before dropping to the ground. Bodies of many that chose to fight against her people were met with such force that all was suddenly silent, as blood sprayed into the air where bodies once stood, as the scent of battle turned from musky rain to a deep copper in an instant. The battle cleared in an instant, with few on the opposing side still standing, with their armor suddenly entrenched in the blood of their allies, surrounded by the few druids and soldiers of Camelot that still stood.</p><p>                In the clearing, Merilyn could easily see Arthur embattled with Mordred, and immediately readied herself to run to his side in the fight, only for Mordred to pierce Arthur’s breast with what appeared to be an enchanted blade mid run. As she skidded in the mud to Arthur’s side, she saw the fatal blow, and immediately reacted, energy arcing into the metal of her polearm, electricity holding Mordred’s body in place as the blade suddenly sank deep. As Mordred’s body fell lifeless amid the storm, Merilyn heard the rattled aching cry from Arthur and immediately sprung to his side, dropping her polearm to the mud, her arms grasping him to her as close as she could manage. Blue eyes stared up at her, in one instance full of fear and dread, in another void of the life she had devoted herself to. Tears welled in her eyes, and her magics vanished in an instant with her grief, as the life of her husband and bonded mate faded before her. All she could do in that moment was grasp him closely against the silverite armor on her chest. What else could possibly be taken from her?</p><p>             “Emrys,” Morgana’s voice sounded behind her and Merilyn tensed. “Look at this destruction you have wrought, how far you have fallen.” Merilyn slowly released her grip from Arthur’s body, the grief taking hold in her heart as she laid him softly on the soaked ground. With a despondent sigh she removed her helm and placed it beside her beloved’s corpse, her dark braid falling to rest against the nape of her neck. “That you would kill so easily. Was it not you, Emrys, that stated that every life was worth fighting for?”</p><p>                “They were given their chance, Morgana. They stayed to fight when I gave them the opportunity to leave. To continue killing was to sign their death writ,” Merilyn sighed, turning towards the priestess she had once considered a friend, that she had once hoped to turn to the light.</p><p>                Morgana scoffed. “They stayed to fight because it was my will that they do so! It was my will that forced Mordred to act against his kin, to drive his dagger deep into your dear Arthur. It was my will that compelled little Aithusa against you. Do you genuinely think I would leave such a thing to chance?”</p><p>                “Then the lives of your men, of mine, of Arthur’s – their blood is in your hands, Morgana.”</p><p>                A gale of stormy wind blew around the two women, separating them from what remained of the battlefield. “Their lives were the will of The Disir. Magic can know no peace, no equilibrium. There is always to be a side of good, and a side of darkness, and darkness must prevail. You know this, sister.”</p><p>                Merilyn glowered at the priestess, “You distort the will of The Disir to your own whims. Do you truly believe they would wrought such destruction to the kingdoms?”</p><p>                “What would you know of The Disir, Emrys?”</p><p>                A weak smile graced Merilyn’s lips, out of place against her wearied expression “Why do think I am here, Morgana? They seek retribution for how you have twisted the Old Religion. You are to face judgment at Arianrhod, should you come peacefully, with no further blood spilt.”</p><p>                “And if I do not?” The winds quickened around the priestess and sorceress.</p><p>                Merilyn stepped closer to Morgana, pulling a dagger from a holster on her thigh. “I rather hope you won’t….sister. Not that you truly are that, mind you. You’ve bastardized what it is to hold magic.”</p><p>                Morgana pulled away. “You are naught but a servant to a corpse, Emrys. Who are you to judge my magic?”</p><p>                “Arthur may be dead, but I am a bit more than a servant.” A quick turn of her head, and with a swipe of her braid to the side, Merilyn showed Morgana the mark on the base of her neck, the deep brown triskele that marked her as the recognized Niðerscyfe ðêodcwên, the druidic queen and the sorceress of Loca. A gasp escaped from Morgana. Merilyn inhaled deeply and stepped closer still, taking a strong grasp of the priestess’s shoulder. “I am Merilyn Balinunith, ðêodcwên, last of the Dragonlords, Queen of the Druids, and wife…” she took a staggering breath at this point, “to the now dead king of Camelot. I am more than enough to hold you in judgment. And after this day, you will not find mercy with me.”</p><p>                Morgana’s eyes began to glow with the telltale swell of power that came with her magic, and so, with a flick of her wrist, Merilyn pointed the blade of her dagger to Morgana’s chest, the tip piercing the skin through the leather of the priestess’s dress. Morgana struggled, making the blade bite deeper into her flesh, and Merilyn grasped her shoulder tighter, the metal of her gauntlet digging into the fabric there. Magic joined the wind that stormed around them, and amongst the gales a *<em>whump, whump, whump</em>* could be heard.</p><p>                “You fool,” Morgana gasped, her magic building around them, the telltale lightning striking into the storm, “No mortal blade can kill me.”</p><p>                Merilyn couldn’t help but smirk, “Not without dragon fire, no. But as it happens…” Merilyn drove the dagger into Morgana, striking at her heart, and willed the stormy gales to clear.</p><p>                *<em>whump, whump, whump*</em></p><p>                Morgana’s eyes widened in understanding.</p><p>                Merilyn commanded of the dragon hovering above them. “Aithusa, <em>Bryne.</em>” White flames surrounded the two women, and in but a moment, they had disappeared to ash, a peaceful smile the last expression seen on the sorceress’s face.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am using a translator for some items here for Old English. It will by no means be perfect.<br/>Ofertêon bâm Heortscræf– To End a Heart<br/>Grêtan – Challenge / trials<br/>Niðerscyfe ðêodcwên – Nature’s Queen<br/>Bryne - Fire</p><p> </p><p>Next: The Judgment</p></blockquote></div></div>
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